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This is the story of the mighty 1985 Kansas City Royals, who defeated the not-quite-as-mighty St. Louis Cardinals in the World Series.


What up, folks? I'm tired of being the butt of jokes
Let's rewind back, before the whole thing went up in smoke
Riding bikes with baseball cards bent up in spokes
Nineteen four score plus five, when those poor sport suckas choked
He got hoodwinked for sure, but you can't blame Denkinger
For game 7, when you got shut out by 11
Like your whole team was drunk on some blackberry kamikazes
You can't beat em even with Jack, Terry, Tom and Ozzie
Patrolling your infield, like bugs on a windshield
You got splattered, tattered and burned till your skin peeled
So what? The dude's wrong, it's time to move on
I'm so tired of all this crying, like a new mom
Like Joaquin Andujar, anger raging to a climax
And Redbird Nation STILL ignores the cut and dry facts
Still think you're the champs, still think you won '85
It's not Denkinger's fault the Cards hit .185

All the fellas shuck and all the ladies jive
The good old days, 1985
The good old days, you suckas can't beat the Royals
The good old days, when they ruled like O'Doyles

Jack and Ozzie led the Cardinals in papermakin'
But they looked like fools against Leibrandt and Saberhagen
Who pitched outta their minds, outta this world like George Jetson
You just got schooled by Frank White and George Brett, son
Time to stop living in the past like a war vet, son
Let us enjoy the trophy cause we probably won't ever get one
Even Royals fans will admit that he got the call wrong
But the logic that lost it has been flawed all along
No self-respect left, umpire's getting death threats
Like it's his fault you lost control and now the bed's wet
He was clearly out, even blind homers can't deny it
But watch the game tape, at the very least they woulda tied it
Study the game tape, I'm not lyin', son
Don's responsible at the most for the tying run
And not the game winner, get off the paint thinner
Three decades under your skin, that's an insane splinter


The whole of your roster was full of impostors
Couldn't pick themselves up after game six, the loss hurt
Played like a flock of hung over and sloshed birds
Time to man up and just admit that you lost, turds
Even if he's out, Worrell still blows the win
Baseball 101, don't be so dumb, no offense
When I say "no offense" I really hope the blow softens
When I say "no offense" what I really mean is no OFFense
Game 7, KC scoring early and often
And that homer from Motley was the nail in the coffin
On the bright side, at least your team's won something since
And employed managers with at least some common sense
Who can do more than sacrifice bunt in a pinch
With one out when they're down by ten runs in the sixth
Think it's rough for you? We've suffered through a dozen layoffs
28 years, we haven't even been back to the playoffs



from GOOD CLEAN FUN, released March 21, 2014
Produced by Glad2Mecha
Mixed and mastered by NomiS



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